Melita
they should have checked the ashes
of the women they burned alive
of the women they burned alive
She watched, observed, quiet ministrations contorting in the back of her mind. Most were frustrations, for the way he edged around like they were walking on glass, for the lengthy amount of time he simply seemed resigned to not saying a word. She almost felt the need to fill the silence with something – but it likely would’ve come out searing and seething, so she tucked them all behind her teeth and merely narrowed her eyes again, flickering from Iskra to Goose, and back again as the meal was prepared.
Not in a joking mood, she briefly snorted at the dog’s lack of packing abilities, then took hold of the offered plate. “Thanks,” came out, and her stomach growled again – then surveyed the situation as Iskra simply walked further and further away. Then the Honeybee broke apart pieces, opting for the toast first, munching away on the warm edges and the jam, eyes lowering so she could grant some to companions lingering around too.
So it was with surprise that her brow arched and went up a little quickly at the you’re right portions – because she typically wasn’t, and many liked to remind her. But once more she fell into the hushed and soundless, faint and muffled portions of herself, though one might argue that could potentially signal a more dangerous form of Melita. In lieu of any pending threat, however, she simply ate and listened, chiseling away all those distinctions he finally deigned to explain.
He was correct, in a way. She’d never thought herself unworthy of happiness, because of all the things she’d lost. She’d felt inadequate, ashamed, weak, useless, and pathetic instead – as if it had been her fault all along for her mother’s sacrifice, for her sister’s demise, for her own ridiculous death. Hordes more in between; but then she’d locked her jaws around promises to herself, for strength that she required, needed, in order to carry on. To be more than worthless.
The Honeybee swallowed down a portion of the bread and contemplated the words threatening over her mouth – to actually give something other than the impulses hovering within. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she started, trying to signify the generous outpouring without making more of a mess. “We all grieve differently.” Her anguish had been like ashes; all dust and burnt and gone but never quite far away; on the edges of her eyes, back in a realm that had promised everything. “But I doubt those you lost would’ve wanted you to mourn them until you were nothing. That’s not a way to live.” She shrugged her shoulders; figuring that was the only advice and solace she could give. “So yeah – I do understand that. And it changes you. But you either sink or swim here.” And she wasn’t sure what he’d chosen now. But barely existing had never been Melita’s essence.
Not in a joking mood, she briefly snorted at the dog’s lack of packing abilities, then took hold of the offered plate. “Thanks,” came out, and her stomach growled again – then surveyed the situation as Iskra simply walked further and further away. Then the Honeybee broke apart pieces, opting for the toast first, munching away on the warm edges and the jam, eyes lowering so she could grant some to companions lingering around too.
So it was with surprise that her brow arched and went up a little quickly at the you’re right portions – because she typically wasn’t, and many liked to remind her. But once more she fell into the hushed and soundless, faint and muffled portions of herself, though one might argue that could potentially signal a more dangerous form of Melita. In lieu of any pending threat, however, she simply ate and listened, chiseling away all those distinctions he finally deigned to explain.
He was correct, in a way. She’d never thought herself unworthy of happiness, because of all the things she’d lost. She’d felt inadequate, ashamed, weak, useless, and pathetic instead – as if it had been her fault all along for her mother’s sacrifice, for her sister’s demise, for her own ridiculous death. Hordes more in between; but then she’d locked her jaws around promises to herself, for strength that she required, needed, in order to carry on. To be more than worthless.
The Honeybee swallowed down a portion of the bread and contemplated the words threatening over her mouth – to actually give something other than the impulses hovering within. “I’m sorry that happened to you,” she started, trying to signify the generous outpouring without making more of a mess. “We all grieve differently.” Her anguish had been like ashes; all dust and burnt and gone but never quite far away; on the edges of her eyes, back in a realm that had promised everything. “But I doubt those you lost would’ve wanted you to mourn them until you were nothing. That’s not a way to live.” She shrugged her shoulders; figuring that was the only advice and solace she could give. “So yeah – I do understand that. And it changes you. But you either sink or swim here.” And she wasn’t sure what he’d chosen now. But barely existing had never been Melita’s essence.
because it takes a single wild ember
to bring a whole wildfire to life
to bring a whole wildfire to life
